Way of the Dead
by obaona
Summary: One woman must deal with her guilt after the murder of Mara Jade Skywalker. She must find forgiveness and learns a valuble lesson in the ways of the Jedi - and the dead.


Author: obaona

Archive: Yes, just ask . . . if you want it I'll be amazed.

A/N: This was a dream I had. No, I'm not kidding. 

Please read and review. :)

******

I was woken from a deep sleep by the whisper of a song.

I opened my eyes to near darkness. Disoriented for a moment, it took me a moment to realize that I was in my room on Telus VI. I blinked rapidly, and then looked around. My shades for my window were open, as was my habit. Moonlight filtered through the window to make the furniture in my small room – a dresser, desk and such things – look ghostly and insubstantial. 

The dark blankets were heavy around my legs, and I kicked them off impatiently. I sighed heavily, not pleased that I had been woken. Sleep was very precious to me. Ever since . . .

Ever since. 

It was still hard for me, crippled by my guilt as I was. I had murdered, in the name of jealousy. Jealousy for something that was not mine, was never mine. I killed his wife with a bomb, planning it just so. Even a Jedi as she was, she had not been able to escape in time. I could remember my triumphant joy when _it_ happened. I was such a fool.

I can still remember the look on Luke Skywalker's face at his wife's funeral. The funeral of the woman I had killed – Mara Jade Skywalker. His face was worn, tired, with his hands folded in the sleeves of his black robes. And his beautiful blue eyes – they held such sadness, blankly aching with grief. 

It was then that I realized what I had done. 

Murder. And such stupid murder – for such a stupid reason. Skywalker was not mine, he never was. He did not even know me. I'm sure that I was just some random person in the crowd to him. But he was so much more to me. So much. 

I guess you could call it obsession. That stalking mentality – and that's what I did, for the next two years. I followed him to every public place he went, though of course there were places I simply could not go. Yavin IV, for instance – where he trained other Jedi. Did he ever realize I was stalking him? I doubt it. He had other concerns, and he was such a private person I had difficulty finding him. 

But Force, I loved him. I can remember hearing about his success at Yavin, destroying the Death Star – I had been little more than ten at the time, but I was captivated. He went on to more missions, and I heard little more of him for a time. Eventually, though, Endor happened, and he was news again. 

The Thrawn incident began my true interest in him. I was an adult by that time, eighteen. I followed his travels and adventures, as I'm sure many did.

Shortly before his marriage to Mara Jade, my interest became full-blown obsession. Oh, I have no doubt that it was that. And no illusions. And ever since that day, two weeks ago, I, Melia Devann – just a person in a crowd – have been crippled by guilt for my wrongdoing. For my crime. 

Mara Jade did not deserve to die. She loved her husband. And he was hers – not mine. Never mine, and never meant to be. They were meant to be together – the will of the Force, I suppose you could call it. 

But to continue. 

I had just woken up from a deep sleep, by faint singing – so faint I could not hear the words. It was soft and beautiful, the melody sweet and simple. Sang by a woman's voice. 

I looked up to see the ring. _Her_ wedding ring. I had taken it from her body, after the blast, during the confusion. With masses of people running around in panic, it had been surprisingly easy. I had cleaned it. Over time I had found myself pondering over it, as I continued in my self-exile to this desolate planet. 

The ring floated in the air. Waist level, about, if I were standing. At an angle. The moonlight glinted off it, and I realized that was what had attracted my eye to it. 

I gasped in horror. My limbs were frozen, I was unable to move. Terrified of doing so. My body seemed suddenly chilled, the sweat of earlier frozen on my skin. A soft, terrified sound escaped my throat.

The singing stopped as I became aware that I was not alone. "Hush," a woman's voice said faintly. And the air coalesced into a person. 

I knew who she was immediately. The color of her hair was softened to a muted gold with a hint of red, and her eyes faded to a pale green. Her clothes were as they had been in life – simple, practical, easy to move in. Muted to a soft gray. 

I looked into her face, wondering what I would see. Her expression was strangely kind, and calm. The faintest of smiles touched her ghostly lips. Even in death, she had the same vibrancy – the same look in those eyes that could hold you still. 

I gazed at her, wondering why she was here rather than how. It was of little importance to me how she had done so – and besides, was she not a Jedi? I looked at her and wondered if she would accept my apology. Though such seemed to very inadequate. And my remorse was not only for her, but for her husband as well. Luke, now bereft of happiness because of me. I hated myself.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. Tears trailed down my face, down my cheeks and to my chin, finally dropping on my white nightclothes. 

Mara nodded. "I know." Her voice was so low to be nearly a whisper, but it didn't sound like one. It was merely as ethereal as the rest of her. She moved towards me slightly, the ring following, solid and real. It glinted, again. 

"I was a fool," I said, my voice breaking. I looked down, in shame. Suddenly it seemed to not matter that she was dead and talking to me. 

A ghostly hand went before my eyes, to almost touch my shoulder. I stared at the ring, and then finally looked up to her face. She was smiling gently at me. "We are all fools, sometimes. You, for my murder, and me, for not having realized my love for Luke sooner."

My body shook as I wept, but I didn't turn away from her sad and regretful gaze. 

"It would be easy to be angry at you," Mara added softly, kneeling by my bed, yet not touching anything. "But that is not the Jedi way, not the way my husband values and teaches. And it is not the way of the dead."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. Knowing that it was not enough.

She shook her head. "No, it is not enough. But I grant my forgiveness nevertheless." She paused, those pale green eyes staring into mine, penetrating. "But there is an opportunity for penance, Melia."

I looked up, hopeful. Was there anything I could do, anyway I could suffer to make this right? I only wanted to change the past – I wanted to talk to myself two weeks ago, and explain the realities of the universe to that stupid girl.

"The past cannot be undone, Melia." Mara shook her head. "Only the future can be decided."

I paused, gasping for breath. "What of your husband? I don't . . . I did love him, in some way." I don't want to suffer, I mentally added.

Mara smiled. "I have seen him. He grieves for me, for what we could have had – regrets how little of it we took. And he is angry. But his life is not over. He will have other loves. And I will be with him always."

I nodded, strangely unsurprised. I was happy, happy that Skywalker would be all right. If only eventually. "Good," I whispered. 

"I have something to ask of you," Mara whispered, barely audible. I listened, willing to do whatever she asked of me. "Officials are coming to arrest you. Luke is angry, still grieving from my death. I fear what his actions will be, even though I have gone to him."

So. They had discovered my identity. I had been expecting it for some time. I did not know what to do when I had realized it, and I did not know what to do now. Yet . . . I understood what Mara was saying to me. I knew of the Jedi, since Skywalker was one. Anger is a terrible thing for a Jedi to have, because it could turn them. And to turn was worse than death. I looked at Mara.

She rose. Then she held her hand out to me, the ring glinting in the soft light of the moon. "Come with me."

I knew what she was asking. She was asking for me to follow her into death. I was no Jedi – I did not know what such held for me. But I realized this was my penance, my one way of giving a little. It was so little compared to what I had done, but it was all I could offer. 

I reached out to take her hand. I started when my hand fell right through her, and a chill swept over my body. Mara just smiled, perfectly serene. My hand traced hers, unable to feel anything. 

But there was the ring. It was real, physically present. I touched it, took it into my hand. Mara allowed it. I gave her a tremulous smile, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. There was little curiosity in me. I didn't know how I would die by stepping to Mara Jade, but I knew I would.

She took a step back and I followed.

Air left my lungs in an explosive gasp, and I felt warmth spreading through my body. Then I began to . . . fade. I could do more than see Mara now – I could sense her, a fiercely controlled thing of mind and thought. Light and energy. 

I took another step, no longer able to feel the hard floor against my feet. Everything faded . . . my vision, my body – and I expanded, becoming part of something more. Something incomprehensible in its size and depth.

And so ends my tale of guilt, and blessed forgiveness.

THE END


End file.
